Methos was beginning to think the desert was alive, alive and malevolent. He had spent centuries in deserts. Originally the Horsemen had hunted among well watered lands, as their prey developed better defenses and banded together in defense the quartet had been forced into arid land. Hunting small bands and traders, nomad tribes and occasionally other groups like themselves. So, he had spent more than a few years in various deserts. This, was the worst.
"Y'know the driest desert on Earth is in Chile? Truth-"
"Stop. Talking." Methos hissed. Xander thought he heard a note of pleading in the immortal's voice.
"Why? We're going to die-"
"You're going to die-"
"So, how does that work? Will you like die and shrivel into a mummy and come back once it rains? Or will you be stuck all shriveled and pathetic until someone sticks you in an exhibit and like, a fire alarm goes off and-"
Methos stared at Xander helplessly. The boy was suffering from severe dehydration. Methos had been slipping the boy the majority of his own water ration whenever they found water, but it hadn't been enough. Harris was dying. The fact that Methos was as well didn't bother the immortal as much. He would bounce back…eventually.
"Xander, listen to me. When you talk you use breath, your breath is moist, you're wasting water, for your own sake, shutup."
Xander's skin was papery and pale under strips of peeling sunburned skin, his lips were cracked and cut, eyes dull and almost unseeing. He ran a paper dry tongue across his battered lips and blinked slowly at Methos.
The immortal slipped an around the boy and kept him moving. They had maybe two full days before one of them dropped.
Methos had been heading downhill, toward what logic said would be lowlands and water. Along the way he had used his skills to forage moisture heavy roots and other water sources but it hadn't been enough. If he had been solo he might've made it.
Methos wouldn't let Harris die without a fight. He owed the kid that much. He might have a motor mouth but he was a good man and he deserved a decent death.
Methos stumbled, distracted by his morbid thoughts, and nearly dropped Harris. Off balance he dropped to one knee burying his free hand in the sand to keep from face planting. His fingertips felt liquid. Xander was on his knees, half leaning on Methos. He was quiet but conscious.
Methos hauled dry sand away and revealed darker damp sand. It didn't mean much but it was hope.
"Looks good enough to chew." Xander said wanly and smiled.
Methos returned the boy's smile although he felt his lips split at the gesture. Hope sprang eternal, as did the kid's optimism.
Methos carefully dug deeper. He was disappointed to find no specific water source but he was still hopeful. He stood up and studied the lay of the land. He had continued heading downhill and was hoping this was a sign that they were reaching a source of groundwater.
Leaning on each other the men kept moving. The sun crawled to the horizon, promising a cessation of heat and the onset of winter cold as the moisture free air lost heat at a dangerous pace. Half an hour after sunset both men were shivering, using precious energy they couldn't afford to lose.
Methos was cursing the day he agreed to help John, cursing his love of beer, cursing any and every god's name he could recall – when he stepped in a puddle.
Methos immediately dropped to his knees and tasted the water. It was gritty, tepid, and stagnant but not toxic. He raised his head and nodded at Xander. The boy plunged in. Within moments they had drained the puddle.
"Best taste ever." Xander sighed. Methos hoped the mortal hadn't picked up any bacteria or microbes but it couldn't be helped. Methos waited to see if the puddle would refill, it didn't so he dug into the sand and was pleased to find more water. He encouraged Xander to drink slowly. It was difficult but Xander realized he risked throwing it up if he wasn't careful. They stayed by the puddle drinking and digging and pausing to rest until almost dawn.
Methos was filling a shriveled gourd they'd found with the last of the water when Xander spoke.
"We aren't going to make it are we?" There was no banter in his tone.
"I'm five thousand years old Xander. I never give up. You'll make it –"
"Not without your help. I know you've been giving me extra water when you think I won't notice."
Methos remained silent. There was no point in arguing about it. He would keep doing it and since Xander wasn't stupid and wanted to live he'd keep taking it.
"I.."
"I don't deal in absolutes kid, I deal in facts, fact is we should've been dead three days after walking into that light. Maybe we won't make it but by my count we've been out here for a month and we're still here."
"Okay." Xander said quietly.
By dawn they were on the move again.
"He took Xander!" Buffy snarled. Her fears had been justified after all. The pseudo demon – cum-tv character had kidnapped Xander.
"No he didn't." Willow said shakily. She had a hand to her forehead and Kennedy was standing behind her, a supporting hand on her shoulder. Willow shrugged the hand away absently and looked Buffy in the eye.
"It's my fault, I was trying to isolate the man from Methos' world, trying to keep him here and force the portal open longer. Someone on the other end severed the connection, there was a massive backlash of energy and…" Willow's gaze drifted toward the charred remnants of the pan-dimensional Initiative's agent.
"How do we get them back?" Buffy asked tightly. She was frustrated that Willow had acted without thinking or asking for input but mostly pissed that Xander was missing.
"I…I'm not sure. We need to find Methos' world, then find them …assuming they both made it safely through."
"First we have to get out of here." Kennedy interrupted. She didn't like the way Buffy was looking at Willow. Buffy flicked her gaze at Kennedy and held the other Slayer's gaze for a heartbeat.
"Spike, check ahead, see if there's an exit." Buffy ordered. The vampire was still festooned like a piñata.
"Untie him." She nodded at Kennedy. Let the angry slayer use her anger and strength on the vampire, assuming he was still freaking out.
Spike remained still while Kennedy slowly untied him. His face was smeared with dried blood and his eyes glittered disturbingly but he behaved. He raised his head and sniffed the air for a moment before tearing off toward the charred remnants of the Initiative's stooge and further down the hall.
Buffy followed him, slowly the other slayers and a shell shocked Willow followed. No one looked at the still steaming meat that had once been a human.
Methos tripped over the road. Tables had turned, in the three days since the duo had found the water Methos had deteriorated. He was stumbling and half blind. The edge of the road was raised just enough to catch him off guard. He fell forward, full length on the sand swept, sun heated concrete.
"A road!" Xander said cheerfully. He ignored Methos for a moment and studied the road. It wasn't well traveled but they would make better time on it. They had an hour or so before sunset.
"Rest or keep going?" Xander asked as he helped Methos upright.
"Rest." Methos croaked. Xander reached for the water gourd. Methos waved a dismissive hand.
"Dude, you might be immortal but I'm not and if you bite it I'm screwed so take some damn water."
Methos reluctantly accepted a mouthful. Xander maneuvered them into the dismal shade of a large spiny bush near the edge of the road and waited for sunset.
"Help me up." Methos whispered. Xander did and together they hobbled along the road, hoping for a passing car.
An hour later they were nearly hit by a semi-truck. Happily the driver managed to avoid them, unfortunately , he didn't stop and offer them a ride. Methos let out a dry hacking cough that was meant to be laughter.
"Feel free to never make that noise, ever again." Xander grumbled.
The next truck did stop.
"You fellas look rough." The driver said staring at them. Xander remained silent and helped Methos into the cab. The trucker studied them as they climbed in.
"Sheee-it, rough don't cut it, I'm swinging by the county hospital for a pickup fellas –"
"Where are we?" Methos asked hoarsely.
"Nevada."
"How far from Vegas?" Methos asked again. Xander remained silent.
"'Bout an hour but-"
"Take us to the Rialto, ten grand for your toubles." Methos hissed.
The driver put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.